Gone fishin'

A big sign out front of the building said “Live Bait,” but that was the only thing giving the slightest hint that the ramshackle building was anything more than an abandoned storage shed.
I slowed down, to the point where a motorist behind me honked his horn, probably cursing at the stinking South Carolina tourist who was always ruining his beloved Emerald Coast. “No way that’s it,” I told Parker. He didn’t care, as we had just stopped at the drugstore for a few items, and he had scored a box of Tic-Tacs. Tic-Tacs — half mint, half maracas. Double score.
I pulled into the parking lot, which was more of a carved-out corner of the lot where the building sat. The sign on the door told me they were open. Guess this was the place my mother-in-law had sent me.
Inside were three guys who looked as though they ran a bait shop. And I actually mean that in a nice way. They were somewhat rough around the edges, but in a manner of men who had spent a lot of time in the elements. They were courteous to me, but especially chatty with Parker, asking him what he planned to catch. (“Shark or gator” was his answer.)
The oldest man behind the counter approached me. It became evident quickly that I had very little idea what I was doing.
HIM: So what are you looking for?
ME: Bait.
HIM: UH, yeah, what kind?
ME: Worms.
HIM: OK, what kind?
ME: There’s more than one kind of worm?
HIM: Yeah, we’ve got wigglers, earthworms and nightcrawlers.
ME:
HIM: What are you fishing for?
ME: Look, it’s for him and his sister, and we’re looking to bait a Shrek fishing pole and a Barbie fishing pole.
HIM: Then wigglers it is.
He handed me a blue tub with some holes punched in the lid. Parker opened, grabbed a few worms out and examined them. Parker approved.
We got back to my in-laws’ house and readied for our fishing trip. My father-in-law prepared the rods for the trip, and we headed out on the dock, about a hundred yards into the bay. We baited both of the kids’ hooks, and they dropped their lines in the water. Parker, on occasion, got a little distracted at what his sister was doing and would wander over to where she was fishing, dragging the line behind him, so that the only fish he would be able to catch would be one that flopped up on the dock and got snagged by the hook.
Allie, however, was very focused. She stood, her eyes glued to the bobber. A couple of times it moved a little, a sure sign something was down below checking out he very tasty wiggler offering. Then — poof! It was gone.
There are several things someone might utter when their bobber goes under. “I got one!” Perhaps, “Caught a fish!” Maybe even, “Here we go!” Allie, opted for, “AHHHHHH!” And then she dropped the fishing pole and looked at me and her granddaddy. “Get it,” she said, to either of us in particular.
I picked up the Barbie fishing rod and went to lift the line to the dock. And what did I find at the other end? A six-hour fight that would yield a 400-pound marlin.
Oh, wait, my mistake. It was about a 4-inch fish that I will say was a bluegill. Allie showed her enthusiasm by standing behind granddaddy, clutching his legs, because if there is one thing to be scared of, it’s a 4-inch fish with a hook sticking through the top of its head.
Parker, a lover of animals, rushed over to check out Allie’s catch. I had to keep him at bay because I did not want him to get stabbed by the fish’s fin or the hook.
When I finally got the hook out of the mouth, I held it up for Allie to see. “That’s nice. Now put it in the water.” I am not sure, but she may have been bullied by a fish at some point in life.
She ended up catching a couple more fish over the next few days, and Parker found that fishing required a patience that he had not quite mastered. He found his evening hermit crab hunt was far more rewarding. Not only were the catches frequent and easy, but you could also chunk your catch back into the water in a way that was not only satisfying but, as we convinced ourselves, harmless to the crab.
So while my kids may never be the weathered old souls at the bait shop, it is good to know they have a little bit of water loving in them. Next time we head down there, we may upgrade Allie to a less Barbie-themed fishing pole. And Parker? It may be time to graduate from wigglers to something more designed to snag shark or gator.